


Like, Love, Fond

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-03
Updated: 2007-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what Rodney loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like, Love, Fond

This is what Rodney loves:

Equations gathered lovingly between brackets; green white board markers, freshly uncapped; brand new socks right out of the packet; butterscotch pudding; making Teyla laugh; the 'whoosh' of the stargate (and making 'whooshing' noises when he thinks about the stargate); wiggling his toes (demonstrably soothing); cursing in French; Twix bars (for the caramel); thinking of relativity as he starts to fall asleep; the opening chords of Van Halen's 'Jump'; _Die Hard_ (but only the first); shade grown, organic, dark roast coffee from Brazil.

This is what John loves:

Speed, speed, speed, and _speed_ ; broken in boots; pale blue boxer shorts; long, hot showers; football (hail Mary); ferris wheels (all hail); the tiny green fishes that nibble his toes when he dunks his feet off the north-west pier; popcorn; _stuff_.

Also:

Rodney. Who's _cool_. And smart. And brave.

But Rodney's fond of:

The dip at the small of John Sheppard's back when the latter's sprawled carelessly across their bed. Clad only in boxers and a day's stubble growth, sleeping with abandon, he looks trusting, contented; buries his face in the pillow and sighs his satisfaction, stretches just a little, curls his toes and relaxes again, supine, tan, utterly _glorious_ , and always, without fail, Rodney's mouth goes dry.

But John really likes it when:

Rodney slips into bed beside him – wakes him up, clumsy, apologizes in a rush. And then he curls and shifts and they're sleeping in a heap, less like lovers than cats, or dogs, or children, and when Rodney exhales against John's skin and makes a soft noise, John thinks it probably means 'home' and rests a hand on Rodney's hip.

Rodney loves:

Sleep. God, _sleeeeeep_.

John loves:

Rodney.

Someday he'll tell.


End file.
